RDCanecutter

You just described the culture of every place south of the Danube. And by extension, New Spain. Not that north of the Danube is any great prize, mind you, they're just more prone to sticking to regulations whether that's building Autobahns or shooting prisoners. In New Spain the Hapsburgs knew exactly how to run it. They knew that unwatched officials would cheat and gouge, so they routinely sent over Visitadores to hobnob, share a bottle of wine, and if it turned out you stole too much, back in chains on a slow boat with usted. Sounds like the Turkish government has the same self-awareness-- if they want 15 pieces of rebar, they probably say 20 to get that to happen.

For a start, fire all NPR announcers and replace them with ex-Drill Sergeants. I know you will NOT touch that dial, maggots.

William Rufus DeVane King says: "If the Dark Angel of Tuberculosis had descended in mournful gloom upon Franklin Pierce instead of taking me, I dare say, Sir, I should dispute your assertion."

This is spiteful, horrible, useless, and it appeals to me.

I just turned it on, did about 3 hexes to preserve my streak, and won 4500 coins when I took credit for it. Completed Sonic Wildfire quest and Diamond Hands. No idea how either one connects to reality.

So, is it the law or something, that he had to tell the newspapers?

My only nit would be the lines about how they hid them because they were Federal currency and Morgan's Confederate cavalry wouldn't like that... Confederates, Federals, Phrenologists and Whiskeypalians would have been united by their love of gold coins, no matter who minted them. They were about one decade from officially using silver Pesos. No way they cared.

I dread the day Sharpie markers go up from one dollar to two. Also kinda need to get the new siding done asap.

Unless you get posted in downtown Laredo. Spend you free evenings in On The Rocks Tavern, and free days prowling around buying Baja hoodies for 8 dollars that you sell for 25 back home. In pensive moments, muse on what might have been in La República del Rio Grande.

Drei Gläser.

SEED! I thought you was dead. Where you been?

Because shitting on a halfway-healthy man is not for the weak. You've got to stay calm while they get close, then LEAP up on them simultaneously dropping pants to start shitting, then it's bucking bronco time once they feel that hot juicy sploo running down their neck, and every now and then you get a real fighter who grabs for the nads, so you gotta twist and turn to evade that while maintaining a disciplined aiming point for the chunky blast. You've got to give it your all, and if you can't, maybe you're better off typing snark for the NYT.

Ignoring people is like paying to see a movie and then not watching the screen.

Counterpoint-- if your ancestors were enslaved on the land, who has a better right to that land than their descendants?

The docs are appalled that 4 blood pressure pills aren't getting the job done, so they've got me paused on Lenvima for few days. Of course Keytruda is still coursing through my veins giving me inhuman strength. BP is down a little already. If it stays lower I am also going to call an audible and skip Amlodipine until my swollen Popeye feet go down again. We have an impromptu meeting at the UAB megaplex Tuesday, this time at the civilized hour of noonish. I will have time to hop on the 15 cent (if you are old) shuttle bus and eat something non-fastfood. Kinda sucks having to call in on what would have been my second day of work, but lucky to know some docs who don't slack off.

Andrew Jackson wasn't lookin for loquacious types like the Sartoris's.

I mean, is she hot?

Find the spot where half the people sound like Foghorn Leghorn, and the other half sound like Yosemite Sam. There will I be.

A starfish is not a fish, and gallery work is not work. Austin art gallery? C'mon, I didn't inherit THAT much money... I was in Fairhope but it was the 1980s. You just missed me, sorry. Hippies in Alabama end up living in abandoned farm houses in the Black Belt for 12 cents rent per month. Their number is Legion, and they all earn about 12 cents a month, which will just cover your Hippy Black Belt Farmhouse. I don't get it. ---------- This particular gallery is in the rusty industrial town of Bessemer across from the Bright Star restaurant, whence you can hear the strains of Sinatra wafting on the breeze. Until I crank up the Hot Mix on Pandora to let people know we're open. The Good Art Company, come stalk us on Google street view, ya freaks.

I don't speak no fancy French or nothin but if that means "Ass Whoopin" I'm in.

I think we need to all get together and physically beat the shit out of each other, then, sure, I'll have a beer with you. Sorta kinda like rugby, except chuck out the more complicated rules. You can use a pistol as a club, but no shooting or stabbing.

Cancer-wise we are in a zone of talking about a millimeter's growth or shrinkage of this or that tumor. One day we will call this "The Good Old Days." Lenvima is doing a stress test on my arteries, jacking up blood pressure. They've got me on four blood-control pills and it still sucks. Goes back to near-normal if I skip Lenvima, but that would be to miss the point of the assignment. Luckily my mental comfort zone is when I'm trying to make it to the green fields of England with #3 prop feathered and hydraulics lines shot out. We're fine. OH. And got a job in an art gallery. Part-time gig but a big damn deal as regards being part of society. I have 3 looks I can pull off: 1. Professor 2. Artist 3. Hobo. Usually I'm slothing around the house as #3 but I am mixing the first two for the job. Owner encourages us to work on our art so it's like having a free-rent studio with foot-traffic (next to big locally-famous restaurant) where I'm paid to hang out. Owner knows my medical deal so is like "if it's a bad day or a doctor day, just don't worry about opening up." Doesn't suck.

When we gettin paid.

If she wants to jump over to Alabama in a few years and grab a US Senate seat, she'll have my vote for either one.